Futanari Legends: The Frozen Queen (Book 2: Astrid) Read Online Free Page A

heard by their ears, “what for us is next?”
    A shift in their posture, a relaxing tone from those in earshot told me the deception took hold in minds unaware of a bard’s dirty tricks.
    This is how we make our money, you know.
    My sergeant nods, “White-haired lass, and the rest of you scouts, calm yourself. Gather ropes, I am sure we will be tasked with hauling the bodies up from below.”
    “Should we find them, the river runs fast down the valley for as far as I can see,” one of the other Imperial scouts laughs, pulling his red bandit’s scarf from his mouth. He elbows me like I am his friend, and I nod and smile back, pulling my red scarf from my ruby lips.
    “If it takes days,” the sergeant says, “it shall take days. By the Emperor’s will the girl in the yellow dress must be found and returned.”
    Garrus and Keller are telling the men one thing, yet they may be planning another. The two of them speak as if the Emperor’s will is suspiciously absent between them, yet their men talk as if the Emperor’s will guides their actions.
    “Alive or dead,” the sergeant says.
    “This place spooks me,” another Imperial says, pointing at the valley, “look at this place. That city, those temples. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
    “Graves of the North,” the sergeant says, his voice low. “Don’t pick anything up, take no treasures, and don’t go inside anywhere without my permission.
    This is a place of magic.”
    “Can I check the ridge?” I say, singing a soft suggestion to my sergeant’s ears. I point a a ridge far away to the north that I knew had a good view of both this place and the valley from which I came. I should know, that was the place I tracked this group of Imperials from before I donned their bandit’s garb.
    “I need to see if there are others.”
    A plausible reason, and with magic, even the least plausible will do. I need to leave them and return to Astrid and tell her of these men. It would be a half-day’s journey to get back to her, the Song of Fleetness being sung the entire way.
    I’d need more water to sing all day to be sure.
    “Go ahead,” he nods.
    I salute and turn, ready to walk away and leave these men to their grim task.
    And leave them forever.
    “Wait.”
    I stop. The voice belongs to Keller the Black, Priest of the God-King. My back is to him, and I hear his footsteps closing on me, the grit on the stone crushing under his devotional boots. The wind whips at his bandit’s robes, and I hear him stop an arm’s length behind me.
    He pulls a string of the white hair of my ponytail gently between his fingers.
    “This scout, sergeant, what legion does she hail from?” His voice is cold, frozen, his words are serious and probing. I can hear the divine magic upon his breath and the will of his Emperor.
    “Third, Mist Valley Regiment,” my sergeant says, repeating the words he thought to be true. The ones I fed to him.
    “Mist Valley,” Keller says, “turn, so I can get a good look at you lass.”
    I turn, coming face to face with the priest. His eyes are dark, his skin a shade of tan I would call olive, and his features looking cut from stone and powerful. He is a man with some muscle as well, built powerful under the tattered blood-red bandit robes he wears.
    He lifts my chin with his fingers, his skin cold to the touch. “I have not seen her with us before, sergeant. Are you sure she is one of us?”
    “We have a number of women Legionnaires,” the sergeant says, “the best shots. Icebow here was on loan to me from the Guard-Captain in Mist Valley, he vouches for her loyalty.”
    The sergeant uses the name of which I gave him, magic again twisting the thoughts in his mind. For my real name is Frost Songweaver, bard of Stormhaven. Still, Icebow is a cute enough name I use from time to time, and it fits my ice-white hair perfectly. Both a blessing and a curse, my hair is pure white, bleached by magic at birth rather than white by age. I am still a